I have congenital analgesia, a condition that means I feel no physical pain. My family saw me as a pawn for an advantageous marriage, offering me to Sterling Cumming, a ruthless figure in the business world. Everyone placed bets, knowing I couldn't feel pain and he felt no pity. What kind of bleak end awaited this marriage? Then, his secretary deliberately spilled hot tea on me, eager to watch me suffer. I merely said, “It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt.” He immediately blacklisted the secretary from the entire industry. That night, he physically taught me, over and over again: “Darling, not feeling pain doesn’t mean you aren’t injured. Just like now. Even if you don’t utter a sound, you’ll still struggle to walk tomorrow, understood?” 1. I was diagnosed with congenital analgesia when I was a child. My father’s reaction wasn’t worry, but regret. “What a pity, such a good tool for an alliance, but it has a flaw.” My stepmother, however, came up with a brilliant plan. She packaged my analgesia as a supreme virtue: “emotionally stable, always composed.” In family meetings, she’ vehemently pitched to everyone: “Think about it, what socialite’s wife can endure beatings and scolding without crying or making a scene, always maintaining the family’s dignity? This isn't a defect; this is a perfect wife tailor-made for a prominent family!” And so, the Campbell family finally ascended to the esteemed Cumming family, a height they had always aspired to reach. Surprisingly, Sterling Cumming himself agreed. On our wedding night, Sterling stood alone by the vast floor-to-ceiling window. He didn't turn to glance at me, leaving only a frigid remark. “From now on, we’ll each get what we need and not interfere with one another.” Having said that, he walked straight to his study. The door clicked shut, separating two worlds. I sat alone on the cold marital bed. There was no sense of loss, no feeling of injustice. I had long grown accustomed to being alone. And so, Sterling and I began our lives as roommates, each in our separate rooms. He left early and returned late; I kept to myself. In the vast mansion, our encounters were rare. Our conversations were shorter than a weather report. Only occasionally, when we happened to cross paths, if he saw me walking barefoot on the floor, he would instinctively frown and ask the housekeeper to bring me slippers. He would watch me, ensuring I put them on before he left. This fragile peace was utterly shattered the first time we returned to the Cumming family estate for a family dinner. Sterling’s relatives sat around, looking at me as if I were a rare animal in a zoo, their whispers sharp and cutting. “Look, that’s the one from the Campbell family. I hear she can’t feel pain.” “What does Sterling see in her? That she won’t cry even if she’s hurt?” “I heard she doesn’t even know when she’s bleeding from an injury. How unlucky to live with someone like that.” These words, like a tide, washed over me, all falling into my ears. I took a deep breath. Just as I was about to get up and go for a walk, an uninvited guest appeared. “Juliet, why are you sitting here all alone? Are you not used to it?” 2. A gentle female voice sounded beside me. I looked up and saw Clara Leigh, Sterling Cumming’s childhood friend. She was originally the destined bride for the Cumming family. Unfortunately, she had wavered between Sterling and another rising entrepreneur. Sterling had seen through her subtle maneuverings. Consequently, he chose the arranged marriage offered by the Campbell family and married me instead. Clara was wearing a pink gown today. Her makeup was exquisite, and her smile radiant, as if she were the hostess here. “Come, don’t be so reserved. We’re family now.” She affectionately linked her arm through mine, feigning to introduce me into the circle of prominent ladies. As we walked, she seemed to suddenly trip on something, her body lurching towards me. I felt something sharply poke my arm. Beyond that, I felt nothing else. I looked down. I saw the ornate diamond brooch on Clara’s gown. The pin had pierced deeply into my forearm. When she pulled it out, a string of bright red blood beads emerged. “Oh dear! I’m so sorry, so sorry! Juliet, are you alright? Does it hurt?” Clara gasped dramatically, instantly drawing everyone’s attention. All eyes were fixed on my bleeding arm and my calm, unruffled face. I shook my head, gently pulling my arm back. I took a handkerchief from my pocket and pressed it against the small, bleeding puncture. “It’s fine.” Seeing my reaction, a hint of triumphant disdain flashed in Clara’s eyes. She then turned to the crowd, chuckling with a pitying, helpless tone: “See, everyone? I told you Juliet is different. Brother Sterling… sigh, he really married a doll who can’t even flirt.” A chorus of knowing chuckles rippled through the room. My expression remained serene. But in their eyes, this was interpreted as numbness, dullness, even stupidity. I had long grown accustomed to such misunderstandings. I had also grown accustomed to hiding my true feelings beneath the guise of congenital analgesia. Just then, a voice so cold it could freeze the air came from behind the crowd. “What are you all laughing at?” It was Sterling. 3. He stood there, unnoticed until now, his face grim. His gaze didn’t linger on anyone. Instead, it cut straight through the crowd, landing on the handkerchief pressing against my wound. Clara’s smile froze. She immediately adopted a wronged and concerned expression, rushing towards him. “Brother Sterling, you’re here!” Sterling didn’t even glance at her. He strode to my side and gently removed my hand from the wound. He stared at the still-seeping pinprick, his brows furrowed in a deep frown. His gaze wasn’t like someone looking at an injury; it was as if he were scrutinizing a cherished item that had been deliberately damaged. For a moment, I wondered if I was hallucinating. The entire ballroom fell into a sudden, hushed silence. “Who did this?” His voice was low, yet carried the oppressive weight of an impending storm. Clara’s face paled, and she stammered, “I accidentally hurt Juliet just now. She…” Sterling finally shifted his gaze from my wound. He turned to her, his eyes devoid of any warmth. “Accidentally?” He repeated, a mocking curve to his lips. Having said that, he ignored everyone else. He took my hand and, amidst the startled gazes of the Cumming family, walked straight out of the estate. After the family dinner, Sterling and I spoke even less. For appearances, and perhaps to better “monitor” me, Sterling arranged for me to work at his company as his special assistant. This naturally caused an uproar. And Sterling’s chief secretary, Bethany George, was Clara Leigh’s most loyal informant. She hadn’t given me a pleasant look since my first day. She probably believed Sterling’s marriage to me was merely a whim. He would soon tire of me, this “pain-immune block of wood,” and eventually welcome Clara back. Her mission was to accelerate this process. 4. That afternoon, I was delivering an urgent document to Sterling. As I pushed open the door to the CEO’s office, Bethany was just about to enter, carrying a steaming cup of tea. Seeing me, a flicker of calculation crossed her eyes. She stepped aside to let me go first. Just as I brushed past her, her hand “accidentally” trembled. The entire cup of scalding tea splashed directly onto the back of my hand, the hot liquid soaking into my skin. I paused. I looked at my hand, which was rapidly turning red, even beginning to blister. No expression flickered across my face. Here we go again. Bethany immediately shrieked, her voice, however, filled with schadenfreude and excitement: “Oh dear! Juliet Campbell! Are you alright?” “I’m so sorry, so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” She waited for me to cry, to scream. Or at least, to show a hint of pain. So she could perform a scene of “panicked good Samaritan” in front of Sterling. However, I merely looked up. I calmly met her gaze and said, “It’s fine. I don’t feel any pain.” Bethany’s expression froze. She probably thought, this person can’t even bother to pretend. How utterly boring. Upon seeing Sterling, her thoughts changed. She was just about to exaggerate her complaint to him. But she hadn’t seen Sterling, sitting behind his desk. From the moment the tea splashed on my hand, his face had darkened. “Get out!” Sterling’s voice carried a terrifying malevolence. Bethany’s face lit up. She thought Sterling was angry at me. She was about to reprimand me with feigned righteous indignation. Then she realized Sterling’s icy eyes were fixed on her. “I said…” Sterling articulated each word slowly. Each word struck Bethany’s heart like a heavy hammer. “Bethany George, you, take your things and get out of my company.”
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